Teenage Angst
by AnimationNut
Summary: At some point in their adolescence, teenagers will experience a rebellious streak. At sixteen, Dipper and Mabel are no exception. Four times one of them got into a fight with one of their great-uncles, and four times their love for each other only grew stronger in the aftermath.
1. The Late-Night Fight

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **This is an idea I had that wouldn't leave me alone, so I thought I'd give it a shot and see what you guys think about it. I've never written something like this before, so let's see how this goes.  
**

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 **Heads up, this story contains corporal punishment.**

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 **The Late-Night Fight**

"Are you cray-cray?"

His right sneaker dangling in his hand, Dipper cast an annoyed glare at his sister. Mabel was watching him from her bed, a magazine resting in her lap and Waddles cuddled by her side. "No, I'm not. What's the big deal?"

Mabel arched an eyebrow. "It's enough of a struggle to get Grunkle Stan to let us use his car on any old day. But at midnight? You're dreaming."

"I'm only gonna be gone for a couple of hours."

"What are you doing again?"

"The arcade is hosting a midnight gamer bash," he replied, shoving his socked foot into his sneaker and tying up the laces. "The winner gets free games for a week. How can I miss this?"

"Easily," muttered Mabel.

Stepping to the floor, Dipper straightened up, adjusted his dark blue beanie and cast his sister a knowing look. "Because you totally wouldn't do the same thing if it happened to be a half-off sale at the Craft Barn."

Shifting her gaze back and forth, she could not come up with a proper rebuttal and conceded, "Fair point. But you shouldn't get your hopes up. There's no way Grunkle Stan is going to let you borrow his car."

"No harm in trying."

Shrugging on his orange hoodie, Dipper gave his sister a wave and left the attic, skipping down the stairs and entering the hallway. He could hear the sounds of the television coming from the living room, which meant his great-uncle was settled for the night. Picturing the keys to the Stanley Mobile, which hung on the hook by the front door, Dipper took a quick breath.

" _Bye Grunkle Stan I'm gonna borrow your car and go to the arcade I'll be back okay bye!"_

He was only five steps towards freedom when Stan shouted, _"Whoa! Slow your roll slick, and get in here."_

Frowning, Dipper reluctantly turned on his heel and walked into the living room. He knew his attempt at a quick escape was foolish, but he figured it had been worth a shot. Now he was going to have to try and argue with his stubborn guardian into letting him use his beloved car for the night.

Good thing he was just as stubborn.

"What?" asked Dipper innocently, pausing in the doorframe and leaning against the wood.

Stan muted the television and shifted in his armchair so he could glare at his nephew. "I heard 'borrow' and 'car'. Is my hearing aid busted again or did you just really have the gall to ask to use my car at midnight?"

"Come on, it's only for a few hours," protested Dipper. "I'm just going to the arcade."

"There is no way I'm letting you use my baby this late at night," snorted Stan. "Nice try, but no cigar."

"So what, am I supposed to walk?" he asked, irritation leaking into his tone. "You're going to be sorry if I get mugged on my way there."

"Watch your tone, buddy. First off, you're not gonna get mugged. You know everybody in this town. Second of all, who said you're going anywhere?"

It took a moment for Dipper to process these words. When he did his eyes widened in horror and he cried, "What? You can't be serious!"

"Does this face look like I'm joking?" countered Stan. "If you wanted to go to the arcade you should have done so sooner."

"You can't go to a midnight gamer-bash at five in the afternoon," said Dipper, fists clenching at his sides as he realized that his plans for the night were about to be ruined. "You never cared about a curfew before. Why start now?"

Stan frowned sharply at him. "There's a difference between a bedtime and a curfew, kiddo. Name one time I let you or your sister leave this place after dark with my permission."

Dipper frantically tried to think of an example, but he was frustrated to discover that Stan had a point. Though the twins were allowed to stay up relatively late, they had never been allowed to leave the Mystery Shack without Stan or Ford. Even when they had gone with Wendy and her friends to explore the abandoned convenience store when they were twelve, they still had been back by eight.

"Grunkle Stan, please, I've been looking forward to this! All the gamers in town and the surrounding area are going to be there. It's only for a few hours!"

"Do you know what happens at the arcade after hours?" asked Stan with a raised brow. "I know someone's gonna smuggle alcohol in there. I was young once. I know the tricks. You're sixteen. You don't need to be around people like that."

"So why don't you come with me, if you're so worried?" snapped Dipper.

"Because I'm not gonna spend my night surrounded by sweaty adolescents fighting over some games while getting drunk," said Stan coolly. "Discussion over. Go do something with your sister or Ford."

"No, the discussion is not over," said Dipper forcefully. "This isn't fair! You'd go if Mabel asked. You'd do whatever Mabel wanted. But you never want to do what I want to do! All I want is to borrow your car and chill for a few hours. I'm not asking the world. But no, apparently you don't trust me enough!"

Stan stood up abruptly, and Dipper was disgruntled to see that even after his growth spurt his great-uncle still loomed above him by several inches. But he did not heed this obvious warning sign. He stood straight-backed and only glared more fiercely.

"You're treading a fine line there squirt," growled Stan, eyes narrowing at the boy. "I said no. You're not going anywhere tonight, you sure as heck aren't going anywhere for the rest of the week. You're grounded."

Dipper's face fell in dismay. "For what?!"

"For back-talking," snapped Stan, fed up with his nephew's insolence.

"But that's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. Get upstairs."

Trembling with rage and indignation, Dipper glared up at Stan and hissed, _"No."_

Taking advantage of the wide-eyed shock crossing his great-uncle's face, Dipper took off in the direction of the front door. If he couldn't drive to the arcade, then he'd walk, or take the golf cart. He'd do whatever it took in order to get to where he wanted to go.

Or that was his plan, anyway.

But in hindsight, he could admit to being a fool for thinking he'd be able to escape. Stan may have been in his early seventies, but he was fitter and faster than most middle-aged people. Travelling the sea and fighting the supernatural could really keep you in shape. So instead of feeling surprise when a hand landed on his arm, he felt only a curl of dread in his gut.

"Let me go!" he cried, yanking his arm desperately.

Stan's grip was iron-clad, and his face was a thundercloud. Dipper flinched as he was hauled against his great-uncle's side. When the first smack landed sharply on his bottom, he knew better than to continue struggling.

He could not stop the yelp from leaving him as the next three swats hit in rapid succession. Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to focus on his breathing as his bottom began to burn from the repetitive smacks.

 _Slap!_

The noise seemed to echo throughout the kitchen as Stan's calloused hand connected against Dipper's jean-clad bottom for the seventh, and what felt like the hardest, smack. "Ow!" he cried out, wiggling madly as what felt like flames seemed to spread across the area. "Grunkle Stan!"

"Unless you want this to linger on I suggest you stand still, Mason," growled Stan, giving his nephew a slightly harder blow to emphasize his warning.

Dipper cringed, a well of shame rising within him. For Stan to use his real name, he had really crossed the line. He whimpered as more slaps struck his sore behind. Though he was wearing jeans and boxers, it didn't seem like they offered any protection from Stan's hand.

Deciding fifteen licks to be enough, Stan let go of the teen and Dipper hastily moved a few steps away. His face was red with humiliation, guilt and anger and he couldn't find it in himself to look his great-uncle in the eye. Staring at the tiles of the floor, he stood in stony silence, waiting for Stan to speak.

"Go to bed," ordered Stan. "I don't want to see you down here for the rest of the night and I don't want to hear a word from you."

The dismissal hurt more than Dipper cared to admit. Eyes wet, he walked quickly past Stan and darted up the stairs, only rubbing at his stinging backside when he was out of sight.

Mabel, who had just settled in for the night, looked up when her brother burst into the attic. Sympathy immediately flooded through her when Dipper threw himself into his bed, crying softly into his pillow. "Aw, Dipping-Dots," she said softly.

Waddles hopped up from her bed and went to comfort her distressed sibling. Knowing the punishment Dipper had received and not wanting to make it worse by trying to get him to talk, she tiptoed over to his bedside and sat beside him.

As she rubbed soothing circles into his back, she decided this was one moment where she wouldn't say 'I-told-you-so'.

…

"Rough night?"

Slowly opening his eyes, Stan tilted his head back to see his brother standing behind him, two sodas in hand. "You've no idea. Don't we have any beer?"

"Nope." Ford extended one of the cans and Stan sat up, accepting the beverage with lackluster movements. "You okay?"

"Not really," muttered Stan. His anger had sapped right out of him the second Dipper scampered out of sight. He was now exhausted and moody and subdued. "Dipper hates me now, so that's new."

Ford clicked his tongue and sat down beside his brother. "He does not."

"Alright, so he didn't say it, but I know he was thinking it."

"I didn't realize you could read minds."

"This family is full of wise-guys," grumbled Stan, taking a long chug from his drink. The caffeine buzz did little to comfort his frazzled nerves. "Kid wanted to borrow my car."

Ford's eyebrow flew upwards. "At this time? He couldn't have expected you to say yes."

"Oh, he did," snorted Stan. "But it wasn't so much the car that set him off. He was ticked that I wouldn't let him go to the stupid arcade in the first place." He stared at the black screen of the television, which he had turned off after his argument with Dipper. "He gave me lip, tried to storm off, and I spanked him. So yeah. Pretty sure he hates me."

"It's not the first time you've had to do that, Stanley," said Ford with a roll of his eyes. "The kids know our rules and they know the consequences. Dipper tried to walk out on you after you clearly told him no. He knows he deserved it."

"Still doesn't feel good," muttered Stan.

"Of course it doesn't," said Ford gently. "But in the end, it's for their own good. He'll get over it."

"Kids get over it," said Stan dubiously. "Teenagers build up resentment that they carry throughout their life."

Ford punched his brother lightly in the shoulder. "Not all teenagers were like you, Lee," he said in bemusement. "Though I can't say Dad didn't deserve it."

Letting out a long sigh, Stan took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. "Why'd we agree to take in teenagers?"

Ford's lips quirked upwards. "Simple. We love them."

"Huh. Good reason."

"Go to bed, Stanley." Ford clapped him on the shoulder and stood up. "Things will be better in the morning."

"Yeah. I hope so."

He could handle many things, but having his niece or nephew mad at him was not one of them.

…

Morning broke over the town of Gravity Falls, but Dipper was already wide awake. Sitting on the edge of his bed, in his green pajama pants and blue sleep shirt, he stared sadly at the wooden floor. He'd been replaying the fight with Stan in his mind for hours, and he couldn't stop kicking himself. He'd been rude and disrespectful and completely out of line.

"Hey, bro-bro."

Mabel scrubbed the sleep from her eyes and cast her sibling a smile. Dipper managed a weak one in return. "Hey."

"You okay?"

"Well, my butt could be better," Dipper replied. He'd been trying to ignore the persistent, mild stinging in his backside, but it was difficult with the fabric rubbing against the tender area. "I really messed up."

"So you got into a fight. It's not the first time it's happened," reasoned Mabel.

"I know. But I never really stormed out on him before. He told me I was grounded and I pretty much tried to leave the house at the next second." Dipper tucked his knees against his chest. "I overreacted because he wouldn't let me use the car or go to the arcade."

"Hey, we're teenagers. Sometimes the little things make us go cuckoo-bananas," she returned. "Dipper, Stan's going to forgive you. His love isn't conditional."

A tiny smile formed on Dipper's face at that. "I know. But I still feel bad." He climbed out of his bed and nervously tugged on his beanie. "I haven't even apologized yet."

"Then onwards!" cried Mabel, pointing towards the attic door. "I'm gonna sleep some more. Probably forever."

With that, she promptly flopped back into her pillows and tugged her blankets over her body. Shaking his head fondly, Dipper left the attic and jogged down the stairs. He could hear someone puttering about in the kitchen, and the scent of coffee was beginning to permeate the air. Biting down on his bottom lip, Dipper veered towards the front door, not quite ready to go face-to-face with his great-uncle yet.

 _Maybe the newspaper is here._

Easing open the door, Dipper peeked outside and found the bundle on the porch. He snagged it and closed the door, his eyes landing on the front-page story.

 _ **'Fighting Gets Real at Midnight Gaming-Bash!'**_

Wide-eyed, Dipper read through the story, which detailed the events of a massive fist fight that had erupted between some drunk out-of-towners. The fight had caused quite a few injuries and arrests, and the entire gaming event had been shut down so the police could deal with the aftermath of the brawl.

 _He was right. Grunkle Stan was right._

If he had gone, there was a good chance he would have been a causality of that fight, or least been forced to be a witness for the investigation. Feeling worse than ever, Dipper hung his head and shuffled towards the kitchen.

 _Grunkle Stan had my best interests at heart, and I lashed out at him. Smart move, Dipper._

The sixteen-year-old paused in the kitchen entryway, his stomach a knot of nerves. Stan finished pouring his cup of coffee and turned around, startling slightly at the sight of his nephew.

"Geez, kid, make a sound or something!"

Slowly lifting his head, Dipper held out the newspaper silently. Confused, Stan accepted it, and realization quickly dawned when he read the headline. He lifted his eyes and met the gaze of his nephew, remorse and guilt clearly written across his face.

"I'm sorry," whispered Dipper. "I'm really, really sorry."

Setting the newspaper aside, Stan held out his arm with a warm, fond smile. "You little idiot. C'mere."

Heart lifting, Dipper crossed the kitchen and went into his great-uncle's tight, loving embrace. "I should have listened to you," he murmured, resting his head against Stan's chest. "But I kinda went a little crazy."

"Well, you're a teenager. Teenagers are pretty crazy and don't make a lot of sense." Stan tugged playfully on Dipper's beanie before easing back. Smirking, he teased, "How's your butt?"

Dipper wrinkled his nose, a flush of embarrassment blooming over his face. "Still stings. You've got a hard hand."

"Hmm. Apparently not hard enough, if you continue to do stupid things," said Stan in amusement. "Keep it up and you're gonna give me grey hair." When Dipper grinned at him, he poked the teen in the nose and warned, "No cracks, slick."

"I wasn't," returned Dipper with a laugh.

"Sure you weren't." Expression turning serious, he continued, "Kid, you know I trust you, right?"

Remembering the words he had thrown out during their fight, Dipper winced. "Yeah, I know. That wasn't fair of me."

"I wouldn't have given Mabel different treatment, either. She and I may have more in common, but that doesn't mean I love her more than you. Got it?"

Dipper smiled softly. "Got it."

Satisfied, he glanced behind him to check on the pancakes sizzling in the pan. "Speaking of your sister, go get her. Breakfast is almost ready. I'll see if I can wrangle Ford out of his dark lair."

"Okay. I love you."

Warmth and affection flooded through Stan at Dipper's sincere declaration. "Love you too, runt." He gave the teen a noogie and added with a knowing grin, "But you're still grounded."

"Aw, rats."


	2. The Lab Incident

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **So Dipper and Ford will be next, but I don't have a solid idea yet for those two. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to share, and I might like it better than whatever I come up with xD**

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 **Heads up, this story contains corporal punishment.**

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 **The Lab Incident**

Moving across the floor of the gift shop with a broom, Mabel hummed softly under her breath as she gathered up small piles of dust. The Shack was closed for the day, but that didn't mean she and her brother got a day off. Being relatives of Stan meant that when there was work to be done, there was a good chance they'd be the ones doing it.

She paused her sweeping when something caught the corner of her eye. Curious, she turned to see an array of colour seeping out from underneath the vending machine. Eyes widening, she rested the broomstick against the wall and went over to investigate.

"Whoa," she breathed, watching as red, blue, yellow and green light streamed across the floor in a watery reflection. Wondering what her great-uncle was working on this time, she reached for the vending machine's keypad. Before she could punch the first button the secret door suddenly whooshed open and the man himself stepped out.

Raising his brow at the sight of his niece hovering outside of his lab, he asked, "Do you need me for something?"

"Er, no, not really." Mabel pointed at the hardwood floor, where the colours had intensified for the brief moment the door was opened. "What's that?"

"Reflection of light from my newest experiment," replied Ford. "The chemicals have to sit for a length of time and it creates a prism effect."

"Ooh, neato! Can I see?" asked Mabel hopefully.

"You already have," replied Ford, gesturing to what had caught her attention in the first place. "There's not much else to see down there."

"That's okay. I'd like to see it anyway."

"Not right now, Mabel. The concoction is currently unstable and it would be best if you stayed out of my lab for the time being."

"Please, Grunkle Ford? I'll be really careful!"

"Mabel, I said no," snapped Ford, with a little more force than he intended. When the girl shrunk back slightly, he felt a pang of guilt and reached out, ruffling her long brunette hair in apology. "When the chemicals settle, I'll bring you down to see them. Alright?"

"Alright," muttered Mabel, feeling irritation bubble within her. She watched as her great-uncle went through the door that led to the main house before shuffling back to the gift shop.

"There!" exclaimed Dipper, who had just finished stocking the cooler. "All done." He glanced up when his sister entered and asked, "Where'd you go?"

"Went to see what all the pretty colours were," she answered, starting for the broom. "But Grunkle Ford wouldn't let me. He said it's too unstable or some junk."

"It's nothing too interesting," said Dipper off-handily, picking up the empty crates. "The mixture itself isn't even colourful. It just gives off that kind of reflection."

Her hand pausing a few inches away from the wooden handle, Mabel slowly turned to face her brother. "Really?" she asked, managing to keep the hurt from showing in her voice.

"Yeah. Trust me, you're not missing anything. Listen, I'm gonna go take these outside to the recycle bin. You almost done? Soos and I are going to hit up the laser tag place."

"No," said Mabel, her tendrils of irritation beginning to blossom into anger. "You go ahead."

"If you say so. See you later." Dipper held out his fist and Mabel knocked her knuckles against his. "Have fun!"

"Uh-huh," she uttered.

When her brother was out of sight, Mabel turned on her heel and practically stormed for the vending machine. She listened intently and could hear Ford speaking with Stan on the other side of the wooden door. She had some time, though she wasn't sure how much. She'd have to be quick.

 _Of course he lets Dipper see his experiment, but not me,_ she thought, wounded from Ford's brush-off. _Just because I don't understand what he's doing doesn't mean I don't want to see it._

She punched in the code and felt her shoulders tense as the door eased open. She knew she shouldn't be going against Ford's orders, but she was tired of not being able to go into the lab when his work was set up. Dipper got to go downstairs whenever he was in the middle of something. But never her.

 _If Dipper saw his fancy chemical thingy, then so can I._

She slipped down the stairs and entered the elevator. Her heart thudded in her chest as she rode to the lab, but her fear at getting caught was quickly forgotten when the shaft opened. Delight coursed through her at the multitude of colours shimmering on the wall and floor, emitting from a lone test tube resting on Ford's desk.

"It's like I'm inside a rainbow," she said in awe. Approaching the test tube, she studied the white solution bubbling inside. "Dipper was right. It's not colourful. I wonder what it is…"

Before she could speculate on what Ford was inventing, a thump coming from upstairs caused her to jolt. "Better not stay down here too long," she muttered. She was about to leave when she noticed a book resting carelessly on the floor. "Geez, I almost tripped over that."

Not wanting her great-uncle to have an accident, she bent down to retrieve the book and set it somewhere out of the way. Her back hit the underside of the table and she immediately straightened, turning to look over her shoulder with horrified eyes.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. The vial shuddered in its holder before starting to tip rapidly for the tabletop. Mabel reached for it, but knew she would not make it in time. Her mind screamed at her to take cover and she did, rushing for the table on the other side of the lab and hastily flipping it over, ducking behind it in the nick of time.

 _BOOM!_

A white flash of light erupted in the lab, eliminating the other pretty colours. Mabel clapped her hands over her ears as a dull ringing sounded throughout the space. Her vision danced with black spots and the room spun slightly.

Later on, she would blame her next action on her disorientated state. Terrified of what she had just done and feeling tremendously guilty of ruining whatever Ford had been working on, Mabel managed to climb to her feet and take off.

Her only hope of avoiding punishment was fleeing the scene of the crime.

…

The floor trembled beneath Ford and Stan and the ceiling shuddered, the lights flickering on and off before once more settling. Heart pounding in his chest, Stan managed to pry to his death grip from his brother's arm. "What the heck was that?!"

"I'll explain later," said Ford hastily, already making tracks for his lab. "I'll take care of it!"

"If you're creating explosives down there I'm gonna kill you!"

"I'm not!" shouted Ford as a reassurance before disappearing through the wooden door.

He stared at the vending machine, left haphazardly to the side and leaving the entrance to his workspace wide open. Suddenly having a very good idea of what had occurred, he rushed into the gift shop just as Mabel darted out the exit door, running as if her life depended on it.

" _Mabel!"_ shouted Ford, but the girl either didn't hear him or was idiotically choosing to ignore him. She was visible from the window for a few more seconds before she was out of sight. "Ooh, that girl…"

He very much wanted to chase his fleeing niece down, but he had to make sure the Shack would not be in danger of collapsing from the backlash of the volatile chemical. He had initially feared Mabel had gotten hurt, but he knew from the speed of which she was running that she was fine.

Clenching his jaw, Ford went to investigate the damage.

The first thing he noticed when he entered his lab was that his desk was completely demolished, half of it burnt and twisted beyond recognition. The vial was broken in half on the floor and there were scorch marks everywhere. The window between his work area and the former portal room was gone, shards of glass lying everywhere. One of his tables was overturned, the surface blackened with ash, and he pieced together the incident.

 _Mabel must've accidentally knocked over the test tube and, sensing a catastrophic reaction, taken cover._

A quick inspection told him that nothing had been done to the support system of the Mystery Shack. Taking a sharp breath, Ford spun on his heel and stormed back upstairs. He had a sixteen-year-old niece to track down and he hoped for both of their sakes that she did not make him search long.

…

Finally stopping halfway into the forest, Mabel leaned against the bark of a tree, panting heavily. Her lungs burned as she gulped down the much-needed oxygen. "Okay…that was incredibly stupid."

She slid down the trunk and settled on the ground, tucking her knees against her chest. She had heard her great-uncle shout for her as she high-tailed it out of the Mystery Shack. Not heeding his call she continued her escape, knowing she had just made things much worse for herself.

 _This wouldn't have happened if he'd just let me see it in the first place._

Her tight knot of guilt loosened slightly at the thought. A soft frown crossed her face as she glared at the grass. Ford let Dipper see his newest creation. It wasn't fair that he kept her in the dark. It was like the Rift all over again- her brother got to know everything and she was shoved off to the side.

" _Mabel Felicity Pines! You come here this instant!"_

Her uncle's bellow echoed throughout the forest, strong and angry. Mabel shrunk against the tree with a flinch. "I'm in _so_ much trouble." Climbing nervously to her feet, she slowly shuffled towards the sound of Ford's voice. She found him a few yards away and spoke, "Yes?"

He whirled around and his frown immediately sharpened when he spotted her. "You are in serious trouble, young lady."

"Tell me something I don't know," she returned, unable to help herself. She was hurt and irritated and miserable, and for some reason all these emotions translated into sass.

"You're already on thin ice, Mabel," warned Ford, his eyes narrowing and starting to advance towards her. "I suggest you don't make this difficult."

"But it's not my fault!" she cried. "It's yours!"

This was enough to cause the purposeful man to halt, eyebrows flying to his hairline. "Excuse me?"

"It's your fault," she repeated, voice trembling. "I wouldn't have gone downstairs alone if you'd just let me see your work in the first place. Dipper was allowed to see it. He can go into the lab whenever he wants! But you can't spare a few seconds to show me your stuff. I get it, I screwed up with the Rift, but-"

She couldn't continue speaking, for her breath caught in her throat and her tears finally spilled down her cheeks. She tried to scrub them away but they kept coming at a rapid pace. Her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs as her emotions poured over.

Ford was by her side in an instant and for a second she thought her punishment was coming. But her great-uncle gathered her into his arms, a solid, protective embrace around her petite form, and the soothing strokes through her hair only made her cry harder.

"Shhh," he whispered, holding her close as she wept. His anger was gone, replaced with concern over Mabel's declarations, ones which she believed to be true. He let her cry herself out, and when her sobs lessened down to soft hiccups he leaned back so he could see her face, his hands on her shoulders. "It seems we have a lot to talk about."

"I guess," she whispered.

Lightly placing three fingers underneath her chin, he guided her eyes to meet his. With his other hand he wiped away her lingering tears. "There is something we need to address first and foremost. I have never once blamed you for the incident with the Rift. That was my fault. I did not tell you what it was, what it could do, and we all paid the consequences for my idiocy. My girl, please don't tell me you've been thinking that I hold a grudge against you because of that for all these years."

"I don't," she answered honestly. "I just…I guess I have moments of self-doubt."

"Then whenever you have those moments, you come to me and we'll talk it through," said Ford firmly. "I don't want you to ever feel guilty for something that wasn't your fault."

"Okay. I will."

Believing her, Ford moved on to the next matter. "Mabel, I did show your brother what I was making. In the beginning stages of development. He saw my plans, what the end result would be. He didn't get to see my chemical solution during its simmering phase."

"Oh," squeaked Mabel. She realized then that she hadn't actually asked Dipper if he had physically seen Ford's invention. When he made his casual remarks about the appearance of the chemical solution, she just assumed…

"I admit, when we first met, there were some matters I didn't feel comfortable sharing with you. You are so much like Stan." Ford tenderly brushed some loose strands of hair away from her flushed, tear-stained face. "When I tried sharing something important with him, it ended in disaster. I let that experience reflect upon you, which is inexcusable."

"It's okay," she said in small voice. "You've already apologized. I forgive you."

Ford could not help but smile. "I know. But it'll be some time before I forgive myself. Now, you seem to think that Dipper has an all-access pass to my lab. I assure you, he is bound to the same rules as you when it comes to my workspace. You and your brother are always welcome to come down when I'm working on something that's not dangerous or volatile. I let Dipper know of those times, because he's expressed interest. If you wanted to spend more time with me downstairs, all you had to do was ask."

Mabel bit down on her bottom lip. It was true she wasn't much into science, so she couldn't blame her great-uncle for assuming she wouldn't be interested in watching his scientific innovations. "Um…I'd like to watch you work…sometimes. If it's okay."

"Duly noted." Ford's amusement quickly fizzled out as he studied his niece intently. "Mabel, I will always have time for you. Seconds, hours, days, whenever you need me, I'll be there. I love you. Very much."

Fresh tears welling in her eyes, Mabel wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "I know that. I really do. I love you too." She held the embrace for a moment before pulling back. "I'm sorry about ruining your project," she said guiltily.

"I don't care about that," said Ford in slight exasperation. "The reason I didn't want you going down to see it wasn't because I was worried you'd wreck it. I feared something would go wrong and it would deconstruct while you were there. I was terrified when the explosion sounded. I thought something had happened to you. I can make another chemical. You, on the other hand, are irreplaceable."

Mabel beamed at that. The heavy weight in her gut was gone and she felt much better about the whole ordeal. "You're irreplaceable, too." She paused as a thought struck her, a tiny tendril of nervousness worming through her stomach. "Um…I don't suppose I can escape punishment by promising to clean up the mess I made?"

Ford crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. "Let's see. You disobeyed my orders, blew up my lab and took off like a bat out of hell in an attempt to escape punishment."

"Well…when you lay it out like that, of course it doesn't sound good," muttered Mabel, shoulders slumping.

"You're certainly going to help restore my lab. But I suppose instead of a spanking you could be grounded for a month. It's up to you."

Mabel scrunched up her nose. While being grounded for a month was reasonable, it was also a month of summer vacation that she would spend in lockdown. She loved her great-uncles dearly, but even she needed a break from family antics once in a while.

"This is very uncool, making me choose a spanking," she huffed.

"It'll be done before you know it," said Ford gently, extending his hand. "Come. Let's get this over with."

She allowed herself to be drawn to Ford's side, body tensing in anticipation of what would come. She felt her uncle's hand rest lightly on the back of her neck and she let out a squeak of surprise when the first smack struck. It took everything she had to keep from squirming at the sharp tingling that occurred with each slap. She clung to Ford's sweater, whimpering as the swats continued at a brisk, rhythmic pace. With each strike, the mild irritation in her bottom got worse, becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

"Ouch!" she yipped as the last three blows struck the sensitive skin of her left thigh, the hardest ones of all. "Ow, ow, ow!" she whined, moisture gathering in her eyes at the fierce burn that flared up. "Grunkle Ford…"

"There. It's over," soothed Ford. "Not so bad, right?"

Mabel wiggled from side to side, trying to shake away the prickling sensation. "Ask me that when I try to sit down," she replied with a small smile, scrubbing at her eyes.

Ford laughed. "Come on. We'll check on the damage and I'm sure Stan is going to want an explanation for what happened."

He slung an arm around her shoulders, squeezing lovingly, and Mabel wrapped her arm around his waist. She leaned her head against his shoulder, a soft smile on her face as they started for home. "I'm sorry."

"You needn't apologize more, dear." Ford played with the ends of brunette strands. "I forgive you. It's water under the bridge."

"I know, I just thought I ought to say it once more." Mabel glanced up at Ford with a curious expression. "What exactly was that fancy stuff anyway?"

"Pocket light," he replied simply. "When settled, the white solution gives off a brilliant light in darkness."

"Oh. That's really cool." Mabel grinned sheepishly. "Er, you can make another one, right? I promise I won't go near it."

"On the contrary, you can help me with the second batch." Ford smiled at Mabel's excited expression, before turning puzzled. "What exactly happened to the solution? How did it fall?"

"Okay, that's totally your fault," declared Mabel with a serious expression. "You left a book on the floor. I tried to pick it up for you but my back hit the table and everything went cray-cray. You need to pick up after yourself."

"I'll start doing that the day you and your brother don't get into trouble."

Mabel smirked. "Guess you're gonna be a slob forever, then."

Ford threw his head back and laughed.

"Yes, that's what I figured. Cheeky imp."


	3. The Research Incident

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **Bit of a longer chapter ahead.**

* * *

 **Heads up, this story contains corporal punishment.**

* * *

 **The Research Incident**

"Hey, have you seen Grunkle Ford?"

With her headphones placed firmly over her ears, Dipper's question went unheard as his sister continued to bob her head to the beat of the song that was blaring from her phone. Her eyes were glued to her latest cheesy romance novel, completely oblivious to her twin's presence.

Rolling his eyes, Dipper stepped into the living room and wandered over to where Mabel lounged in the armchair, her legs slung over the armrests. He plucked off the headphones by the plastic band and she let out a sound of annoyance. "Earth to Mabel!"

"Dude, it just got to the good part," she complained, snatching her pink headphones back. "I'm going to have to rewind it now."

"Which will take all of three seconds," he returned. "You see Grunkle Ford around? Or have you been too busy rocking out to Sev'ral Times, who are extremely overrated, to notice?"

"Don't be dissing my boys," she warned, lazily jabbing his stomach, which was within her immediate reach. "No, I haven't seen Grunkle Ford. I think he left. Why?"

"I was going to see if he was interested in a game of Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons," he replied.

"Aren't you too old for that?"

Dipper pulled the coffee-stained, worn-out yellow cushion out from underneath Mabel and started whacking her with it. "You, of all people, are not asking me that question."

" _Oof!"_ Mabel held out her hands to ward off the soft weapon. "Come on, I was kidding!"

"You're so not funny," said Dipper, but was unable to keep a smile from breaking through.

Footsteps sounded in their direction, soft _thumps_ sounding on the solid hardwood floor. Ford appeared in the living room entryway moments later. Dipper and Mabel gaped at their great-uncle, who was in right state, even for him.

His face and clothes were streaked with thick mud and dark green leaves. Clumps of wet soil fell from his shoulders and the hem of his trench coat, gathering on the carpeted floor. Ford seemed oblivious to their baffled expressions and greeted, "Hey kids."

"Uh…hey," spoke Mabel. The normally stale air now held a hint of an earthy aroma, which indicated just how much mud Ford had coated himself with. "What's with the camouflage?"

"I did some research this morning," he answered with a dismissive wave of his hand, sending drops of dirt flying. "I needed to fully disguise myself in order to keep myself hidden from the water sprites."

"Ooh, cool!" Mabel's eyes lit up. "They're water guardians, right?"

"Depends on which tribe you encounter. In Gravity Falls, they are merely water fairies, and they're very territorial. I never got to do much studying on them due to their violent nature. But today I got a fair amount of information."

"Can we see?" asked Dipper, feeling only slightly bothered that Ford hadn't invited him and his sister along. He knew there were some research endeavors Ford preferred to go on alone, but he would have liked the chance to go along all the same.

"Of course." Ford reached for his satchel but only grasped empty air. A scowl crossed his face and he smacked his right fist into his left open palm in frustration. "Those darn water sprites! They've taken my satchel!"

"You sure you didn't just drop it?" asked Mabel in bemusement.

"No, I'm certain they have it," he said bitterly. "My disguise went well until the sun caught on the lenses of my glasses. The resulting reflection gave me away. Let me tell you, the sight of angry water sprites swarming towards you is _not_ pretty."

"Mabel and I can go get it for you," offered Dipper, eager to see these elusive water sprites.

But his hopes were quickly dashed when Ford gave a firm shake of his head. "No, Dipper, that satchel is best left alone. Messing with water sprites is dangerous business. I'm lucky to have gotten away."

"Well, no offense or anything, but we're…" Dipper trailed off, trying to think of a nice way to phrase his thoughts.

"Young and fit," chirped Mabel, snickering softly when her brother glared at her in annoyance.

Not fazed by his niece's bluntness, Ford returned, "That may be true, but I know the water sprites. They're not to be toyed with. I'll simply have to try and study them another day."

"But-"

"I said no, Dipper," he snapped, levelling his persistent nephew with a stern look. "You two are simply too young to deal with this. You will leave those little water demons alone. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," muttered Dipper, turning his heated gaze to the floor.

"Good. I'm going in the shower." Ford tugged at his dirt-caked hair with a grimace. "Stanley is not going to be happy with this month's water bill."

He swept off and the second he was out of sight Dipper turned on his heel and stormed off, fists clenched at his sides. Noticing the hard set of her brother's face, Mabel hastily scrambled out of the chair, abandoning her music, and hurried after him.

"Please tell me you're not going to do what I think you're going to do," she pleaded, having to climb the stairs two at a time to keep up with Dipper's long-legged strides.

"He's treating us like we're children," said Dipper angrily, shoving open their bedroom door so hard it struck the wall with a _bang._ "Too young to deal with some water pixies? Has he completely forgotten Bill and his takeover of Gravity Falls? Never mind everything else we've done in this crazy place!"

"Maybe it was bit unfair of him to say that, but I'm sure he has his reasons!" insisted Mabel, watching nervously as her brother yanked on a dark green sweater.

"His reason is that he thinks we're still too immature to handle these kinds of matters," he shot back. He started his search for supplies and found his backpack underneath his bed. He sneezed slightly at the cloud of dust that rose up when he tugged it out into the open. Glancing swiftly around their room, he began shoving items into the black bag.

"A tennis racket," said Mabel dubiously. "You're going to defeat a tribe of water sprites with a tennis racket."

"It's either this or a fly swatter."

"Come on, why don't you just forget this and ask Grunkle Ford to play your nerd game with you?"

"Maybe later, if I feel like it. I don't really want to talk to him right now." Dipper glanced up with a knowing look. "I'm guessing you're not coming?"

Mabel bit down on her bottom lip, torn between wanting to help her sibling out and saving her backside. "Sorry bro," she finally answered, "but I think this is a bad idea."

"It's going to be fine," said Dipper breezily. "We've dealt with much worse. Can I borrow your grappling hook?"

Mabel went over and dug it out from her nightstand drawer. If she couldn't be by Dipper's side, she'd be glad to offer her headstrong brother any assistance she could. "You sure you want to do this?"

"Relax. I'll be back before you know it." Dipper stuck the device into the bag, squishing it beside his rarely-used red tennis racket. "Just a few more things…"

He slung the bag over his shoulders and exited the attic, his sister at his heels. They went down the stairs, entered the hallway and walked past the bathroom, where they could hear the shower still running. Mabel's eyes widened when Dipper shoved open the door to Ford's bedroom.

"Dude!"

Dipper ignored her exclamation and went over to Ford's desk. He opened up the top drawer and pulled out a smoke bomb. His eyes landed on a holster hanging off the edge of the chair, Ford's metallic ray gun glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the dusty window.

"Oh, you can't be serious," breathed Mabel when Dipper strapped the holster around his waist. "Your butt is _so_ toast."

"I'm only taking it as an emergency weapon," defended Dipper. "When I come back with his research, he's going to have to admit he was wrong. We're old enough to handle any supernatural weirdness."

Mabel let out a sigh, knowing that no amount of persuading would talk him out of his crazy plan. Ford's comment had irked him greatly and now he was setting out to prove a point. "Be careful, Dipping-Dots."

"I will." Not at all concerned, Dipper sent his sister a reassuring smile. "I won't be long. Cover for me?"

"Oh, fine." Mabel pointed at him sternly. "But you owe me."

Dipper grinned and waved, darting out of Ford's room and down the hall. Mabel lingered, nibbling on her bottom lip nervously, before also leaving, shutting the door firmly behind her.

 _Good luck, bro. 'Cause if Ford catches you, you are so screwed._

…

Dipper walked briskly across the forest floor, his sneaker-clad feet sinking slightly into the muddy ground. His breathing quickened in excitement the closer he got to the pool of water that the water sprites called their habitat. He could tell he was getting near when the air began to smell less of earth and dew, transitioning smoothly to the relaxing scent of fresh water and algae.

The reeds separating the pool from the rest of the forest entered his vision. It reminded him of wooden fences between neighbouring properties in the suburbs, a polite indication of where one's territory ended. He lowered down to the ground, bare knees pressing into the damp dirt, and crept to the edge of the pool, quieting his breathing as he moved.

He slowly inched apart the wet water plants, giving himself enough of an opening to peek through. He scanned the sparkling, glassy blue water and the smooth grey stones that peppered the surface. Ford's brown leather satchel sat carelessly on one of the rocks, halfway across the pool.

 _There it is._

Dozens of pixie-like creatures flitted about, silvery-blue wings flapping in the warm summer breeze. Their skin was paper-white, their hair black as ebony, in styles ranging from short and curly to long and sleek. Each water sprite had sharp, dark blue eyes and an aqua aura that surrounded them. High-pitched nattering that Dipper's human ears could not distinguish permeated the air.

 _Here we go._

With slow, deliberate movements, Dipper kept to the cover of the reeds as he reached into his backpack. He removed the smoke bomb first, fingers curling around the cool metal, and then Mabel's grappling hook with his other hand. He lined the device up with the abandoned satchel and gripped the smoke bomb, preparing to throw it.

 _One…two…three!_

With fluid movement, Dipper tossed the smoke bomb towards the nearest rock. It activated immediately once it struck the hard surface, thick black smoke clogging the area and causing the sprites to screech in alarm and outrage. Eyes watering and throat burning from the fumes of the smoke bomb, Dipper kept the grappling hook steady as he pressed the trigger. He grinned broadly when the felt the metal hook snag on something soft.

 _Yeah!_

He started to retract the rope, but after a second it suddenly pulled taunt. Brow furrowing, Dipper frantically tried tugging, hoping to free the satchel from whatever it had gotten caught on. It would not budge.

 _What the-?_

" _Whoa!"_

He cried out as he was forcefully pulled through the reeds, crashing into the shallow part of the pool, the warm water drenching his front. He squinted through the haze of the smoke, only able to see multiple small figures darting towards him, their shrill sounds reaching a dangerous crescendo.

"Dang it!" he hissed, yanking the tennis racket from his bag and swinging it blindly as he pressed the grappling hook trigger repeatedly. He had a sinking feeling that the water sprites were clinging to Ford's satchel, preventing him from fully retracting the rope.

"Geez, they're strong little buggers. _Ow!"_

Tiny fingers clawed at him, digging thin red lines into his exposed fleshed. Ignoring the resulting stinging, he kicked and thrashed, keeping a solid grip on Mabel's grappling hook. He could feel minute _thumps_ every time his racket hit a water sprite, sending them flying through the grey-clouded air.

Dipper stiffened as the water around him began to bubble, slowly at first, before becoming more rapid. His eyes widened as the water started to twist around him in crystal-clear pillars, starting to drag him to the deeper part of the pool. He let go of the grappling hook in his surprise, shouting as the water sprites sang a song of death, their voices chilling and haunting.

Completely abandoning his racket, he started scrabbling at the rocks desperately with his fingers. But his soaked fingers gave him no grip on the sleek surface. He took a frantic gulp of air before he was forcefully pulled to the depths of the pool, where the warm water turned frigid, seeping into his clothes and skin.

He moved his arms and legs wildly, but the bright surface of the pool seemed to get further away as the invisible grip grew tighter. As he thrashed, his fingers struck the cold metal of Ford's ray gun, alerting him to its presence. He wrestled it out of its holster and pointed it directly below him. His chest ached and burned, his throat dry and screaming for oxygen. He did not have much time left.

 _Please let this work._

Closing his eyes, he braced himself and pressed the trigger.

…

Carting a towel through his damp grey hair, Ford crossed the hallway and entered his room, dressed in clean clothes and free of dirt. "Well, that could have gone better," he said aloud, thinking bitterly of the pesky little sprites.

He tossed his towel into his hamper and reached automatically for his ray gun, which he liked to keep in a more secure place. But in his haste to get clean he had slung it haphazardly over the back of his desk chair.

Instead of grasping the thick black strap of his holster, he got thin air. He stared at the place where his ray gun should have rested, momentarily confused. He couldn't remember leaving it anywhere else, so where had it gone?

 _Mabel and I can go get for you._

No…they wouldn't….they wouldn't dare to be so insolent.

 _Oh, they would._

Spinning on his heel Ford charged out of his bedroom and towards the living room, hollering at the top of his lungs, _"Mabel! Dipper!"_

His pounding heart settled momentarily at the sound of rapid footsteps falling on the stairs. It picked up again when only his niece appeared in the doorway, expression one of concern. "What? What's wrong?"

"Where's your brother?" he demanded.

"In town," she replied.

It was her immediate response to his question, followed by the too-wide smile and slight shift of her eyes that told him everything. He was by her side in two strides, spinning her around and landing two sharp, warning smacks to her behind.

Mabel jolted and yelped, more out of surprise than actual pain, hastily stepping away when Ford let go of her shoulder. "What was that for?" she asked with a whine.

"Don't lie to me," growled Ford and she flinched guiltily. "My ray gun is missing, and so is Dipper. Did he go after the water sprites?" When she only regarded him hesitantly, he raised an eyebrow and said lowly, "I suggest you tell me the truth or else there will be more where those came from."

"Yes, okay, he did!" she confessed quickly, only feeling slightly bad for selling her brother out. "But I'm sure he's fine!"

A dark shadow crossed over Ford's face, his lips thinning into a grim line. "Wait here," he ground out. "I'll be back."

Mabel watched her great-uncle sweep out of the living room and leaned against the wall with a groan. "Sorry bro, but my butt is not going down with yours." She idly rubbed the spots where Ford had swatted her. "Geez. I got to stop wearing skirts. So not enough protection."

…

 _Bam!_

There was a fantastic explosion as the glowing blast from the ray gun struck the bottom of the pool, sending the water rushing upwards in a geyser-like motion. Dipper cried out in surprise as he spun through the air before crashing once more in the water, his chin knocking off a rock. He rubbed away the dull pain and looked up dazedly.

Water, black mud, pebbles and chunks of algae rained down, causing the startled water sprites to scatter. Wasting no time, he lunged forwards, grabbed the satchel and took off running, ploughing through the reeds and charging through the forest, stumbling over roots and dips in the dirt.

Dipper collapsed to the ground when he felt he was a safe enough distance away, gulping down air to soothe his aching lungs. After a few minutes, he stood up, littered with thin red cuts that occasional itched, shivering slightly from the water drenching his clothes, but otherwise pleased as he gripped Ford's satchel to his side.

"Sweet," he said with a grin, sticking Mabel's grappling hook into his bag and slinging the ray gun into the holster. "Let's see what Grunkle Ford has to say about this."

"Oh, trust me, boy, you don't want to hear what I have to say right now."

Turning around, Dipper's smug smile faltered momentarily at the sight of his great-uncle striding through the trees, his expression livid. "Look, I know I went when you said not to, but come on! It went fine!"

" _Fine?"_ thundered Ford. "Have you taken a look at yourself?"

"It's just some scratches," defended Dipper. "They got long nails, that's all."

"Water sprites have the ability to control the flow of water," said Ford, heart clenching in his chest as he stared at the water dripping from Dipper's clothes. "When they are threatened, they take their victims to a watery grave. _You could have drowned._ "

"Could have. But I didn't. I brought your ray gun in case of an emergency, and it worked. So technically, I should be praised for my forethought."

His flippant remark caused Ford to narrow his eyes. "Stupidity is more appropriate."

The confidence immediately dissolved from Dipper's face, replaced with indigent anger. "Hey, I just saved your research from a tribe of territorial water sprites. I proved you wrong- I'm not too young to deal with situations like this."

" _That's_ what this is about?" said Ford, his angered voice bordering on disbelief. "You disobeyed my orders, ran recklessly into danger just to prove a point? You think this little stunt is going to convince you're mature enough to handle delicate ordeals? You are sorely mistaken."

"Whatever," snapped Dipper, feeling hurt surge through him at his great-uncle's blunt words. With trembling hands he flung the satchel at Ford, who just managed to catch it, and scowled. "A guy tries to help and all he gets is a load of crap."

With two steps Ford was by his nephew's side, grabbing him by the back of his soaked sweater and dragging him across the forest floor, eyes flashing with anger. "That's enough," he growled. "I don't know where this poor attitude came from, but I will not tolerate it. You and I are going to have a _long_ discussion and we will deal with your appalling behaviour."

Dipper's stomach plummeted. He had hoped that his successful endeavour would have impressed Ford enough to overlook his disobedience. This was clearly not the case. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh, not yet, but you will be," promised Ford.

"Fine," he bit out, trying to squander his jumping nerves. "But do you really have to pull me? I know how to walk."

Knowing his nephew had enough sense not to try and run, Ford relinquished his grip. "My ray gun," he said shortly.

Yanking off the holster, Dipper handed it to his uncle before sticking his hands into his pockets. He kept his moody glare aimed towards the ground, shoulders hunched forwards.

The walk back to the Mystery Shack was silent, a tense atmosphere crackling between them. Ford shoved open the front door and pointed inside. "Go clean yourself up," he ordered. "You will be in my room in precisely fifteen minutes. Heaven help you if you choose to dawdle."

Scowling softly, Dipper stormed past his great-uncle and went straight for the attic. His sister immediately sprang up when he entered, tossing his backpack onto his bed, his dark mood palpable.

"I'm sorry," she began nervously, "I tried to cover for you but he-"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted, pausing in his search for dry clothes to muster up a smile for his sister. "Thanks for trying."

Mabel's muscles relaxed with relief. "No prob. You in serious trouble?" she asked in sympathy, raising a hand to cover her eyes as her brother began to change.

Dipper snorted. "I think that's an understatement." He wrestled into a fresh white T-shirt, boxers and jeans. "You're clear."

She lowered her hand and glanced at the sopping wet fabric piled on the hardwood floor. "Uh…what happened?"

"I'll explain later. Right now I have to clean myself up and meet Ford in his room," grumbled Dipper. His stomach jumped at the very thought of what he would have to endure in mere minutes.

Sensing her twin's anxiety, Mabel moved forwards and hugged him briefly. "Hey, it's going to be fine. It'll happen and then it'll be over, and your lesson will be learned! You'll regain the ability to sit in a few days, I'm sure."

Dipper sent her a weak smile, grateful for her support. "Yeah. See you soon…hopefully."

He shuffled back downstairs, pausing in the bathroom to spread disinfectant on the cuts he had received. There were enough bandages to cover his injuries, further preventing them from infection. He eyed the dark bruise on his chin before shrugging.

 _Not much I can do about that._

With a soft sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom and walked towards Ford's room, knowing that close to fifteen minutes must have passed. He felt very much like a man walking down death row, though he supposed it was a bit overdramatic of him.

Swallowing nervously, Dipper tried to school his features into a blank mask as he nudged open the door. Ford stood near his desk, eyes trained on his watch. "Right on time," he remarked, lifting his gaze, expression cool. "It seems you can listen, when you feel so inclined."

"This is stupid," snapped Dipper, crossing his arms in irritation. "I'm sixteen. I'm too old for this- _hey!_ "

He didn't notice Ford before it was too late. A strong hold landed on his upper arm and he was pulled over to the couch. His eyes widened when Ford sat down, his intent clear. "No! Hold on!"

His words fell on deaf ears. Ford yanked his struggling nephew over his knees and Dipper gasped slightly as the world tipped over. "No way, come on, stop it- _ow!_ "

A heavy strike landed on his bottom, the force causing him to halt his slightly frantic words. "You seem to think that because you feel you're old enough, you can act as you please," said Ford, placing one hand against the middle of Dipper's back to keep him from moving. "You are going to learn that this is not the case."

He couldn't help but jump at the first swat, the sensation not at all comfortable. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying hard not to wiggle as more swats came, alternating from where they landed. He could feel his skin warming under the repetitive strikes, not getting the chance to cool as Ford would just swat the same spot a second later.

"Why are you being punished?" asked Ford, not deterring from the rhythm of his swats.

Dipper took in a sharp breath, trying to ignore the growing pain in his backside. "I…I didn't, _ouch,_ I didn't listen to you!" he hissed out, fingertips digging into the hardwood floor.

"It's more than that," Ford said sternly. "You put yourself needlessly into danger, you took my ray gun, which you are forbidden to touch, and you asked your sister to lie for you."

"I just wanted to prove I could do it," Dipper said, voice hitching on a sob. "To prove that I'm no longer a kid and can do anything."

"But that's not the case, is it?" asked Ford.

"No!" yelped Dipper, the tearing up at the burn that spread across the now tender skin, "I was just mad! _Ow!_ I was wrong, I nearly got killed by the, _ouch,_ water sprites. I'm sorry, Grunkle Ford! _Ow, ow,_ I really am! Please!"

There was sincerity in his voice this time, and Ford knew the teen's stubborn pride had broken down, allowing him to see reason. Ford pulled his nephew up from his lap and into his secure embrace. "You and your sister are going to be the death of me one of these days," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles between the teen's shoulder blades.

Dipper rested his head against Ford's shoulder, scrubbing at his tears and wincing as the fabric of his jeans rubbed against his sore skin. "Well, there seems to be a weirdly coincidental access to dangerous things whenever we feel the need to act out," he joked weakly.

"Unfortunately," said Ford warily. "Dipper, you know that I trust and respect you, right?"

"Yeah. I know." Dipper sighed and lifted his head, glancing at his uncle with sheepish eyes. "I guess I thought the reason you didn't invite Mabel and I along to see the water sprites was purely because you thought we were just kids. I didn't really think about the danger part…we've gone through lots of risky situations in the past."

"There's a difference between finding yourself part of a dangerous situation and throwing yourself into one," pointed out Ford. "You did not need to seek out the water sprites."

"No, I didn't," agreed Dipper. "I guess I felt like I had a point to prove to you."

"You never have to prove anything to me. Do you understand that?"

"I do," assured Dipper. "I let the red cloud my vision. Totally not worth it."

Ford's eyes shone with amusement. "Well, I'm glad to hear that." He reached out and rubbed the top of Dipper's head affectionately. "I hate to break to you my boy, but you and your sister will always be kids to Stan and I. Our kids."

Though being addressed as a child was the very thing that set him off earlier, Dipper now felt a rush of pride and delight at Ford's remark. He flushed, feeling incredibly foolish. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford. I really am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or anything."

"You never do," said Ford with a playful roll of his eyes. "Yet somehow we keep ending up here, don't we?"

"Not entirely my call," quipped Dipper. "But I'll try to be good. Key word being _try_."

"I suppose that's as much as I can ask," said Ford with a fond shake of his head. "Off with you. Your sister is anxious to see you, I'm sure."

Dipper stepped to the floor and wrapped his arms around Ford's neck in a quick hug. "Love you."

"I love you too, Dipper. All is forgiven. It always is."

"I know. Later!"

Dipper rushed out of the room, only rubbing at his pulsing backside when he was out of sight. "Ow, ow, ow, ow," he chanted. "Why do I do this to myself?"

He entered the attic and his sister glanced up from her laptop to smile at him. "You're alive!"

"Barely," snorted Dipper. He laid stomach-down on his bed, face buried into his pillow. "Yeah, you were right. That was a bad idea."

"Of course I was," she chirped cheerfully. She reached for her nightstand and plucked up a small bag of ice. "But don't worry, I have the cure you need!"

She handed Dipper the ice and he put it into place, the cold a soothing relief against his sore bottom. "I love you. You are amazing."

Mabel laughed and tousled her twin's hair playfully. "Tell me something I don't know. So spill. What happened?"

"Water sprites are jerks. If you ever see one, smack it with a tennis racket and take off running."


	4. The Party Fight

**I do not own Gravity Falls.**

 **Whew, this chapter took forever. Never rely on me for consistent updating. Here's the final chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Thanks for reading this four-shot, and until next time, AnimationNut out.**

 **Peace!**

* * *

 **Heads up, this story contains corporal punishment. This particular chapter also contains alcohol and drugs.**

* * *

 **The Party Fight**

Standing in line with a green basket of groceries, Mabel shifted from side to side, her black sequined sandals squeaking against the shiny white tiles. She hummed softly under her breath, listening idly to the continuous beeping as the cashier rang the items in one at a time. There were three people ahead of her, all of them with a decent amount of groceries. It would be a while before it was her turn, not that she minded.

"What's the hold up?"

The soft mumble came from directly behind her, and Mabel cast a glance over her shoulder. She locked eyes with a tall, lanky teenager, and in an attempt to lighten his seemingly impatient mood, she said, "Produce, I think."

He regarded her in surprise for a moment before a slight smirk crossed his tanned face. "Probably. Didn't meant to come off like a jerk. It's just that I have somewhere to be and I hate being late." He paused and added, "Though I guess it's my fault for deciding to do a snack run before my appointment."

"It's okay," assured Mabel. "We all have our grumpy moments." She cast a quick once-over, noticing the silver rings that glinted in his nose, lip and ears, and the black and gold tattoos that snacked up his arms, designs ranging from elegant eagles to fierce panthers. "I don't think I've ever seen you around before," she remarked. "Are you new to Gravity Falls?"

"Easy to tell, huh?" he asked in amusement. "Yeah, I moved here with Pops four months ago. Spencer Long, and you know, I don't think I've seen _you_ around either."

"Geez, call me rude," realized Mabel, flushing slightly. "Totally forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mabel Pines. I'm a seasonal visitor. Been coming to Gravity Falls for every summer vacation since I was twelve. The rest of the year I live in Piedmont."

"You could spend your vacation in sunny California, and yet you choose to come to the middle of nowhere?" asked Spencer in bafflement.

"I love Gravity Falls," defended Mabel, voice growing slightly sharp on instinct, for she never liked it when people bashed her beloved home. "All my friends are here, and the community is amazing. There may not be much to do, but the scenery is gorgeous."

Spencer raised his hands in a surrendering manner, his own basket of groceries dangling from the crook of his elbow. Amusement glimmered in his crystal blue eyes and he said, "Whoa, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I didn't come here by choice, so I'm shocked when I learn people actually leave the big city to permanently reside here."

"I know you didn't," said Mabel with a sheepish smile. "I get kinda passionate about Gravity Falls."

"Clearly." Spencer tilted his head to the side, lips curling upwards and revealing a set of straight white teeth. "Don't worry about it. I like women who are passionate…"

He trailed off, charming smile still on his lips, and Mabel felt warmth coursing through her body, overriding the chill she had previously felt from the grocery store's powerful air-conditioner. "That's me," she managed to say in response. "Passionate Mabel. I'm sure you'll come to like Gravity Falls. I think it's impossible not to."

"You may be right. This place can't be too bad if you're around."

 _Is this flirting? Are we flirting? Oh my gosh, I think I'm flirting!_

Mabel struggled to keep from squealing, for though she had read and fantasized and tried flirting with guys, most of them never flirted back. She grinned and said coyly, "I'm glad I'm starting to change your mind. I hope it stays after I return home."

"It might, so long as you come back," replied Spencer smoothly. His brow furrowed slightly, and he added, "Though I gotta be honest, the woods give me creepy vibes. Does that make me crazy?"

Mabel giggled, images of gnomes, unicorns, and all the other mystical creatures that inhabited the forest flashing through her mind. "Nah, that happens," she said casually. He clearly did not know of the freaky and magical side of Gravity Falls, and she would not tell him. It would be more fun if he figured it out for himself.

Her turn for check-out finally came, and she quickly aligned her groceries on the conveyer belt. "What's your appointment for?" she asked as she rifled through her pink glittery purse for her wallet. "Doctor's?"

"Not quite," drawled Spencer, casting a hand through his spiky raven locks. "But it would be very bad for me if I didn't make it on time."

"Yeah, those late charges are the worst," spoke Mabel, missing the mysterious undertone and vagueness of the teen's answer as she searched more intently for her elusive wallet.

"That'll be twenty-five eighty," the cashier spoke, bagging the last of Mabel's groceries.

"Dang it," the girl groaned, retracting her hand and setting it against her forehead in frustration. "Okay, I hate to be that guy, but I totally forgot my wallet in my other purse—"

"In that case, I got it." Spencer promptly removed two twenties from his vest pocket and handed it over.

"Wow, thanks!" exclaimed Mabel. "I'll totally pay you back."

"Don't even worry about it. I got enough to spare."

"I can't just let you pay for my groceries, we just met!"

"Well, then how about we get know one another a little better?" Spencer leaned close, so that he was almost nose-to-nose with the now-flustered Mabel. "I'm hosting a party tonight. Why don't you come?"

"Uh, yeah, sure!" said Mabel quickly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. "That'd be great! Where do you live?"

"On McCrory Road. Near the town-line. It's the ugly place with the peeling siding and rusted garage. Starts at eleven."

"Cool, I'll see you there then!"

"Here's your change," the cashier interjected, handing over the coins and bill.

Mabel tried to hand it over to Spencer, but he waved it away. "Keep it. I seriously don't need it."

"Okay…if you're sure." Mabel slipped the money into her purse and grabbed her bags. "See you!"

"You better."

Spencer winked, and Mabel quickly hurried from the supermarket, cheeks burning a bright red, and it was only when she was halfway across the road did she let the giddy giggle escape her.

 _I think the time has finally come for my epic summer romance! Wait until Dipper hears about this!_

…

Legs clad in blue cotton slung over the arm of the worn-out chair, Dipper was engrossed in his mystery novel. As such, he did not hear his sister call his name, and was jolted back from his imaginative realm when a bag of pretzels dropped directly in front of his book, blocking the words from his sight.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "I'm at a crucial part of the case!"

"It's not going anywhere," countered Mabel, swinging herself to perch on the back of the armchair. "You won't believe what happened to me at the grocery store—I think I got a date!"

"Oh, here we go," grumbled Dipper, reluctantly setting aside the glossy-covered book. He ripped open the bag and shoved a handful of pretzels into his mouth. "Alright, let's hear it," he said thickly.

"Okay, so I was in the check-out line, and there's this guy standing behind me and he has all these cool tattoos. The line is taking forever, right, and so we get to talking. He's new in town, doesn't really like Gravity Falls all that much, but he said that now that he's met me, it's not so bad!"

"That's the best line he could come up with?" asked Dipper incredulously.

Mabel shoved his beanie further over his eyes, a slight snort escaping her. "What would you have used then, Mr. Pick-Up Line Master?"

"Not that one," returned Dipper simply. "Not that I know a lot of decent pick-up lines…or have ever used them on anyone…but then again, it doesn't take much to reel you in."

"That's not true," protested Mabel. "I don't just fall for any old guy."

Dipper laughed loudly at that. "Oh, come on! You were at the grocery store for what, ten minutes? In that time-span you just talked and then agreed to a date. Let's not bring up all those failed romances our first summer here."

"Ugh, that's a low blow." Mabel wrinkled her nose slightly. "And it wasn't exactly a date, per say. He invited me to a party. But that totally counts as something."

"Who invited you to a party?"

Mabel turned her head in surprise, having not heard her great-uncle enter the living room. The man leaned against the entryway, can of soda in hand, and he was eyeing her expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"A guy I met at the grocery store," answered Mabel brightly.

Stan's eyebrows flew up. "You met some random tourist and got invited to a party within the span of ten minutes?"

Dipper snickered, and Mabel elbowed the side of his head lightly as she responded. "He's not a tourist. He lives here."

"Wait a minute." Stan's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're not talkin' about the tattooed punk, are ya?"

"His name is Spencer," said Mabel patiently, for she knew how her great-uncle felt about most teenagers.

"Yeah, thought so. No way are you goin' to that jerk's party."

Startled for a moment, Mabel's eyes enlarged. "Whoa, whoa, why not? Is it just because he has tattoos and piercings? You can't judge a person by how they look!"

"Sometimes all ya need is someone's appearance to tell you everything," said Stan dryly. "But to keep you from goin' off on one of your lectures, no, it's not because of his looks. The guy has been tanglin' with the Gravity Falls cops since he moved here."

"For what?" asked Mabel, arms folding over her chest.

"Usin' drugs, sellin' drugs, and all of that underworld-type junk," replied Stan. "That's the word around town, anyway. But the punk manages to get away clear every time a tip comes in."

"Well, maybe it is just a rumour," replied Mabel. "I mean, if there's no evidence, then he can't be guilty. Someone else probably said something because they also made the terrible error of judging him by his appearance. Spencer's really nice!"

"It's probably a front," said Stan bluntly. "Have you looked in the mirror?"

Mabel stared down at her summer attire, which consisted of a pair of white shorts that just reached her thighs and a sparkly purple halter top. "What?" she demanded.

"You know how many guys pretend to be nice just to score a girl? It's a common tactic, there are a bunch of creeps out there, and I bet my money that Spencer kid is one of them."

Dipper, who had been watching the exchange silently, arched one eyebrow in surprise. His great-uncle did not use the word 'bet' lightly, and when he did, it was because he was absolutely certain he was right.

Mabel bristled, feeling bubbles of anger boiling hot in her stomach, cheeks flushing red. "You don't know that," she snapped. "He probably just wants to get to know me!"

"Over my dead body."

"Come on Grunkle Stan, it's just a party!" pleaded Mabel, who did not want to pass up her chance at the first possible romance of the summer. "I won't be gone long, and even if he does drugs or whatever, I have good judgement. I wouldn't stay in an environment like that."

"You won't get the chance to," countered Stan. "I've been around a long time, and spent most of it in the streets and dealin' dirty business. I know shady characters when I see 'em. A sweet girl like you doesn't need to be around a crowd like that. I can only imagine what his friends are like."

"I can take care of myself," said Mabel insistently. "At least let me go for an hour."

"Don't make me say it again," warned Stan, levelling his persistence niece with a stern look. "You're not goin' to any party by Spencer Long."

Mabel fisted the hem of her halter top in her hands, eyes sharpening with ire. "What if a random tourist invites me to a party?" she asked bitterly. "Is that okay?"

"We'll see after I complete a background check," shot back Stan. "Watch your mouth, kiddo. You may not like it, but you don't know as much as you think you do. Promise me you won't go to that party."

Mabel glared at the stained carpet for a moment, moving her arms to rest casually behind her back. "Fine. I promise."

Though her tone was short and clearly displeased, Stan still nodded in satisfaction. "One day, pumpkin, you'll understand that I'm not a buzzkill for no reason."

"Yeah, sure," she grumbled.

"Alright, I'll leave you to rant to your brother now."

Knowing she would need time to let off steam, Stan departed for his bedroom. Dipper waited until he heard the click of Stan's door shutting before levelling his twin with a knowing look. "You crossed your fingers behind your back, didn't you?"

Mabel triumphantly removed her right hand, showing her index and middle finger interlocked. "Think he suspects anything?"

"Mabel, we're not twelve," said Dipper in exasperation. "You think crossing your fingers makes your promises void? You think Stan is going to go for that?"

"He's not going to know," said Mabel stubbornly. "I'm going to do what all sixteen-year-olds do—sneak out after dark."

Dipper stared. "Alright, who are you, and what have you done with my sister?"

"Come on Dipping-Dots, it's not fair!" complained Mabel, flopping off the chair to sprawl on the carpet, glaring moodily up at the ceiling. "This is the first guy who's shown any interest in me this summer, and Grunkle Stan won't even let me take the chance! I bet he's never even met Spencer before. How can he make a judgement on someone he's never met?"

"I think Grunkle Stan has some sort of built-in radar that lets him detect lowlifes, criminals and just general creeps," replied Dipper, tugging the hem of his beanie lower over his forehead. "Actually, I'm about sixty percent sure he did something with drugs at one point in his life. Pretty sure he'd know a drug dealer when he sees one."

Mabel scowled. "Not you too!"

Dipper held up his hands in surrender. "Hey, I'm not necessarily saying I agree, I'm just saying that I don't think Grunkle Stan would make such an accusation if he didn't think it were true. He even used the word 'bet'. He doesn't do that lightly."

"Rumours aren't always based on fact," said Mabel stubbornly. "Maybe he's just misunderstood."

"I get that you're all about giving people chances, and not judging them, and accepting everybody. It's your best quality. But—"

"Not all people are deserving of it," finished Mabel with slight annoyance. "I'm not stupid. I know there are jerks and creeps in the world, and there are people I have to be wary of. But I want to form my own opinion of Spencer. I'm not a kid anymore. I have the ability to make my own judgements, and if I find myself in a bad situation, I'll leave."

Dipper regarded his sister, exasperation crossing his features. "I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"Nope." Mabel sat up from the floor and formed a determined fist. "I'm going to this party."

"Well, I'll come with you," declared Dipper.

"Thanks bro, but you don't have to," assured Mabel.

"I can't let you go alone. What if something goes down and you get hurt?"

"I really think you and Grunkle Stan are overreacting, but even if junk does go down, I can take care of myself." Mabel smiled slightly. "If I can handle Bill Cipher, I think I can handle pretty much anything."

"Fair point, I guess," conceded Dipper. "How long do you plan to be gone?"

"Three hours, at the most. I'll leave at eleven."

"Then I'll text you every half hour, and if you don't answer back within five minutes I'm coming after you."

"Fine," sighed Mabel, but she was smiling. "Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to get there…"

"I hope you're not thinking of taking Stan's car," said Dipper flatly. "He wouldn't let me take it at midnight to go to an arcade. I can only imagine what he's going to think if he finds out you took it to a party you're forbidden from attending."

Mabel pursed her lips. "Good point," she grumbled. "All the noise the Stan-mobile makes might actually overpower Grunkle Stan's snoring and wake him up. He's got a special sense or something when it comes to his car."

"Where _is_ this party, anyway?" asked Dipper.

"McCrory Road," she replied.

"That's practically near the town-line. It'll take you all night to walk there."

"Guess I'm splurging on a taxi," muttered Mabel, propping her chin in her hand. "Dunno if I'll enough for both trips, though…"

Though it was against his better judgement, Dipper offered, "I've got some cash saved up. You can borrow it."

Mabel's eyes lit up and she sprang to her feet eagerly. "Seriously?"

He nodded, and let out a grunt when his sister tackled him in a hug, pressing him down into the chair. She released him and scooted over to let him up, a slight smirk on her lips. "You realize this makes you an accomplice in teenage rebellion."

"Well, you supported me when I raced off to get those water sprites," recalled Dipper. "So I'll support you in this. But seriously," he aimed a stern finger at her, "you're gonna text me every half hour."

"Definitely," confirmed Mabel. She jumped to the floor and clasped her hands together, eyes ponderous. "Now I just need to put together a super sweet party outfit."

"Try to cover your stomach this time," drawled Dipper, and promptly flung up his hands to defend himself against pillow that came his way.

…

Lingering outside of Stan's bedroom, Dipper listened intently, his breathing slow and soft. A small surge of relief went through him when Stan's thunderous snores soon rumbled from the other side of the door, and he crept up towards the attic. When he entered the space, it was to see Mabel smoothing out the glittery purple sweater that hung from the ends of her shoulders. She also wore a white sequined skirt, long purple socks and black sneakers with purple and pink striped laces. Her long brunette hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, and there was a dusting of makeup on her face.

"Well? What do you think?" asked Mabel, performing a small twirl.

"You'll be the best dressed girl there," assured Dipper. "Grunkle Stan is snoring away."

"Then it's time to make my great escape," declared Mabel, casting a quick glance at the silver watch strapped to her wrist. She was reasonably, fashionably late now. "I'll call the taxi once I get a distance away from the Shack."

"You got the money I gave you?"

"Yep."

"Your grappling hook?"

Mabel lifted up the hem of her sweater, revealing the handle of her beloved weapon. "Always."

"Cellphone?"

Mabel slapped the pocket of her skirt. "Fully charged."

"Okay." His nerves still not quite settled, Dipper added, "If any guys try to give you trouble—"

"I'll get 'em where it really hurts. Dipper, I'll be fine." She gave him a smile. "If you can survive those water sprites, I can survive a teenage party."

"I know, I know." Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess this is how you felt when I ran off to face said water sprites, huh?"

"More or less." Mabel moved closer so she could playfully punch her brother in the shoulder. "Payback, Dipping-Dots."

"Yeah, yeah." Dipper rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Whatever. Go to your dumb party."

"Will do. See you in three hours or less!" Mabel gave him a fist-bump before going over to the window. She pried it open and wielded her grappling hook. She offered Dipper one last salute before disappearing into the darkness of the night, the whirr of her grappling hook a soft whisper in the night air.

Dipper walked over and balanced his hands against the edge, watching her shadowy figure disappear into the night. "Good luck, sis. If Grunkle Stan finds out about this, you are _so_ going to catch it."

…

The yellow taxi pulled up to a two-story house, and the pulsing music pounded throughout the area. Mabel paid her fare and climbed out, surveying the dozens of people that were scattered about the sprawling green lawn, glass beer bottles and cans in grasp.

"Okay…not teenagers," she muttered, moving cautiously down the stone path, listening to intermingle of loud chatter and music. But she did not think much of it, for she herself had a decent amount of older friends.

When she got closer to the house, a foul stench struck her nostrils, and she instinctively shot a hand up to cover her nose. "Ugh. Skunk!"

But she soon forgot the smell when she spotted Spencer leaning against the side of the house, speaking rather intently with two other teenagers, neither of which looked happy. He glanced up and saw her, and he waved the two away before coming to greet her.

"Hey," he said with a charming smile. "You came."

"I said I would," returned Mabel. "Did you doubt me?"

"Not at all." Spencer slung an arm over her shoulders and started leading her to the large blue cooler situated on the low-rising porch. "You want a drink?"

"Sure. You got cola?"

Spencer looked at her with a raised brow. "Oh, no. You're not one of them goodie-goodies, are you? I could have sworn there was a bit of a bad girl behind those bright eyes."

"I'm in the middle of the spectrum," she returned. "I'm not old enough to drink."

"Neither am I," he returned with a dismissive shrug.

Mabel glanced around, eyeing the clusters of young adults drinking and gyrating. "Don't wanna be a bummer…but you realize that serving alcohol, let alone drinking it, underage is illegal?"

Spencer sent her a dry look. "There are two officers in Gravity Falls. I've seen them around. You should know better than me that we have nothing to worry about."

Mabel could not help but admit that he had a point, and relaxed ever so slightly. Spencer plucked a dripping can of beer from the cooler and gestured towards the icy contents. "Well?"

"Still gonna stick with my original answer," said Mabel firmly. She fished within and removed a can of sugary cola.

"If you say so."

Spencer cracked his can, and a spray of beer showered the front of Mabel's sweater. He stared in surprise for a moment before breaking into snickers. "Whoops. Sorry."

"Sure you are," countered Mabel. She wielded her cola can menacingly. "You want retaliation?"

"I'd rather not," he drawled.

They wandered over to the porch, where the awful stench got more potent. Mabel felt her stomach turn slightly and she glanced at him. "So…how long has that skunk been around?"

Spencer regarded her in bafflement. "What?"

"That smell—that means there's a skunk around here somewhere."

"Very funny," he said with a laugh.

Mabel blinked in confusion, not understanding the joke. But before she could inquire further, Spencer took a long swig of his beer and grabbed onto her hand. "C'mon, let's not stand around like losers. You dance?"

"Well, why don't you just see for yourself?" returned Mabel.

Her stomach fluttered hopefully when Spencer grinned at her, and lugged her off to join the crowd of people dancing wildly on the trampled grass. She fished her phone from her pocket and with one hand, sent her brother an update text.

 _'So far, so good! No drugs in sight! Just a little alcohol (which I'm totally not having), but hey, it could be worse, right?'_

…

Slipper-covered feet stealing across the kitchen floor, Stan filled a glass with water from the tap, his vision half-blurry from fatigue. The glowing numbers on the microwave informed him it was just past midnight. Taking a sip, Stan left the kitchen and, instead of going to his room, headed up the stairs towards the attic. It had become his habit to check in on the twins during the night, whenever he was roused from sleep.

Placing his palm against the warm wood of the door, Stan carefully nudged it open. Snoozing in one bed was Dipper, the blankets tangled around his legs and head buried into his pillows. In the other bed was one pink pig, and no owner snuggled around him.

Eyes slowly narrowing, Stan's fingers tightened around the glass, so hard that he wouldn't have been surprised if it shattered. Moving purposefully towards the oblivious Dipper, Stan set his now-forgotten drink on the bedside table. He did not miss how Dipper's phone was resting directly beside his head, as if he were expecting a text or call and did not want to miss it.

 _Oooh, she better not be where I think she is._

The firm smack he gave to Dipper's pajama-clad bottom startled him awake. Dipper hastily scrambled backwards, smacking into his headboard with a dazed grunt. All sleepiness fled at the sight of Stan looming above him with a less-than-pleased (bordering on furious) expression.

"Grunkle Stan!" he exclaimed, nerves twisting into his gut. "What are you—?"

"Where's your sister?"

Dipper flinched slightly at the growl, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. A few feeble excuses and explanations ran through his mind, but he knew instantly they would do no good. Stan was the master of lies and deceit, and it was foolish to try and deny.

"She's at Spencer's party," he confessed reluctantly.

"And you did nothing to stop her?"

"I tried to talk her out of it," returned Dipper with a helpless shrug. "But she was set on it. She's fine—she texted me about twenty minutes ago."

"Where is this party?" demanded Stan.

"McCrory Road."

"I'll be back," he said shortly, striding for the door. "Do _not_ move—and don't even _think_ about giving your sister a warning."

He swept out with that, and Dipper collapsed against his pillow with a groan. _I knew this was a bad idea…you are so in for it, Mabel._

…

The third song finished up and Mabel swayed her arms up to the last beat. She lowered them as the next song started, and Spencer took another chug of his second beer of the night. "Um…don't you think that's enough?" she asked carefully.

"Please, I'm not even close to feeling a buzz," dismissed Spencer.

Biting down on her bottom lip, Mabel felt her head ache as the scent of alcohol and skunk stench made her stomach spin slightly. Thinking a walk would help clear her developing headache, she did not get a chance to make the suggestion as a burly young adult with a scruffy beard strode forwards, eyes hard.

She instinctively took a few steps back at the intimidating male, hand hovering over where her grappling hook was located. Every movie she had seen about teen parties included someone getting into a fight, and she braced herself to break up a brawl.

What she did not expect, however, was for the man to snap, "We're out of the goods, Long."

Spencer only regarded him impassively. "Lucky for you, I've got the stuff. But only if you got the money. You know how it works."

A scowl twisted his features, but the man dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Spencer in turn dipped his fingers into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a baggie of white powder. Mabel's eyes widened exponentially as he handed it over and took the cash into his hands.

"There," he drawled, idly counting the bills. "Oh, and try and do something about the smell, will you? My father is going to knock my head in if I can't get rid of it."

The guy grunted and walked off. Mabel stared at Spencer speechlessly for a moment before she managed to find her words. "You…you _are_ a drug dealer?"

"It's got good income," he replied, sticking the money into his pocket and giving her a suave smile. "You want some? I can give you a discount."

" _No,"_ yelped Mabel. "I don't do drugs!"

"It's just weed," said Spencer with a raised brow. "It's used for medical reasons. It'll help you relax."

"I know," said Mabel, feeling her heart fall into her stomach, because Stan was right even when she was so certain he wasn't. "But isn't it illegal?"

"At a federal level, sure, and in most states. But this is Oregon, where state law has deemed it legal. Don't you love politics?"

Mabel bit down on her bottom lip. She was starting to get an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. She thought she could be fine with his underage drinking (it was in practically every teen-rebellion movie), but at the speed of which he consumed the alcohol she started to have her doubts. But drugs…legal or not, it wasn't something she believed in, especially if they were being used purely for recreational purposes.

"I'm getting kind of tired," she spoke. "I think I'm going to head home now."

"Are you seriously bailing 'cause of a couple joints?" snorted Spencer. "Geez, I knew you came across as naïve and clueless, but I thought that was an act."

Mabel bristled, and she snapped angrily, "I am not naïve and clueless!"

He was in her face before she could blink, eyes gleaming. "Well then, prove it. I do believe there was talk of getting to know each other…"

And then her lips were caught in a searing, invading kiss. After a second of shock she planted her hands against his chest and sent him sprawling to the ground. "What was that?" she cried out, scrubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. She glared fiercely at Spencer, who was climbing to his feet with a clearly irate expression. "You want to kiss me like that, you better buy me dinner first! Actually, you better ask for permission _after_ dinner too."

"I thought we were going to have some fun," spat Spencer with a glower. "But you're just like all the girls in this backwater town—prude, snobbish and a tease."

Her hand promptly connected with the side of his face, and Mabel narrowed her eyes. " _Don't talk to me like that._ I came here expecting a fun time at a party, _not_ to satisfy your dumb male urges. I am not a toy for you to use whenever you want, and no girl is. I thought you were a cool guy when we met, but clearly, people aren't what they seem, and sometimes they are _exactly_ who they seem. And that's a lesson I need to learn."

She dug into her pocket and removed the cash she was going to use for her taxi home. She flung it at him, and he hissed when the coins bounced off of his forehead. "There—I paid you back for my groceries. I'd hate to owe _you_ anything."

Spencer rubbed the developing welt on his cheek, and stiffly swiped the loose money. He then took cautious steps away from the enraged brunette. "Whatever," he finally scoffed. "Thanks for wasting my time. I'm off to have some real fun."

He strode away with that, and Mabel cast one more disgusted glower before striding in the direction of the road, hand yanking out her phone to call Dipper. Just as she started to dial, her phone trilled, and it was her brother's name that flashed across her screen.

"Dude, this is a total bust—Spencer's a total jerk."

" _I'm sure Grunkle Stan will love to hear that he's right,"_ returned Dipper, speaking quickly and his voice holding a note of franticness. _"You can tell him when he comes to get you."_

Mabel felt her heart freeze in her chest, dread welling up in her stomach. "Oh…no."

" _Oh yeah. He just left. I wasn't supposed to call you, but clearly we both have problems listening."_

"Sugar," she hissed under her breath. "How'd he find out?"

" _I guess he was up getting a drink and decided to check on us. He put two and two together when you weren't in your bed."_

"I am in so much trouble," she whimpered.

Her statement was further proven when blue and red lights suddenly flashed down the dark street, illuminating the area. The sirens blared and Mabel paled dramatically as those around her shouted and started to scatter.

" _Please don't tell me those are sirens."_

"Yup. There's drugs and alcohol being distributed by a minor, and I don't want to imagine what else is going on at this place. I'm outta here."

" _Call if you need me. If not, I'll see you back home."_

Mabel hung up and shoved her phone back into her pocket, racing across the grass as she went. The lone police cruiser was pulling into the driveway, their headlights throwing shadowy figures into clarity. She barely heard Blubs' orders to remain still, crashing through the trees that lined the property and fleeing into the neighbouring yard. She made a quick dash back to the road, stealing a glance over her shoulder. All the commotion was still occurring at the Long residence, and there was no one shouting for her to stop.

Slowing her pace, she started walking along the edge of the road, kicking up stones as she went. But her relief did not last long—another set of headlights blinded her for a brief instant, and her heart jumped up into her throat at the familiar license plate.

Unfurling himself from the front seat, Stan glared at his niece, who regarded him with a hesitant expression. "Car," he growled. _"Now."_

 _Now I'm starting to wish Blubs and Durland had gotten to me first._

Mabel hurried over to the car, yanking open the door and slipping into the back seat. She folded her hands tightly into her lap and stared out the window, heart pumping madly in her chest. Not a word was exchanged during the drive home, and by the grip Stan held on the steering wheel, he was furious.

Sooner than Mabel would have liked, they reached the Mystery Shack. With heavy feet, she shuffled up the steps and into the house, halting in the living room and standing stiffly. There was the sound of the door slamming, keys clinking as Stan hung them back on the hook, and his solid footfalls as he came towards her.

Standing tall and looming just above his niece, Stan said lowly, "That better not be what I think it is."

Knowing she probably reeked of both beer and weed, she felt some offense that her great-uncle thought she could be so easily influenced. "Why?" she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "You never have a drink at my age?"

" _Don't_ get smart with me missy," warned Stan. "Answer me."

"No, I didn't have any beer," said Mabel tightly. "Some just got spilled on me. I thought you'd have enough trust in me not to do anything illegal."

"I trusted you to listen to me when I forbade you to go to that forsaken party in the first place," countered Stan sharply. "You _promised_ me."

Mabel felt the guilt rise in a swell, and she shifted her gaze. "I had my fingers crossed, so I technically didn't promise anything."

"Do not start with me," snapped Stan, pointing sternly at his niece. "You are not twelve, Mabel Felicity. Ya think crossin' your fingers gives you a free pass to discard whatever promises you make?"

"Funny, you still treat me like I'm twelve," returned Mabel, frustration entering her tone. "You make your own judgements of people, but don't let me make my own. And no, I didn't have any pass to break my promise, but you've broken your own promises."

Stan let out a long breath, rubbing the space between his eyes. "You ever hear the phrase 'do as I say, not as I do'?"

Mabel pursed her lips, giving a nod of her head. "Uh-huh."

"That, kiddo, is pretty much the base of parenting. We're all hypocrites, and we've done a good ninety percent of what we tell you _not_ to do. But we've faced the consequences, learned the hard lessons, especially me."

A dark shadow crossed his face at that, and Mabel's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know you told me not to go, but…"

"Ya thought I was just spoutin' off at the mouth, and wanted to check him out for yourself," finished Stan. "Kid, I know I give teens a hard rap, but I don't warn ya to stay away from certain characters unless I have good reason."

"I know that now," said Mabel, sudden exhaustion overtaking her. "Spencer's a real jerk. He only wanted me there so he could have some fun."

The meaning behind those words did not go over Stan's head. He was in front of Mabel in an instant, cupping her face with his hands, eyes blazing with a rage not directed towards her. "Did he try anything?"

Mabel laid her slender fingers overtop his, assuring, "Nothing more than a kiss. I sent him sprawling and gave him a good slap. If he had kept pressing, I would have used my grappling hook on him where it hurts, but he got the message pretty quick."

Calmed slightly by this, Stan stepped back. "That's my girl. He better pray he never runs into me, or I'll knock his teeth down his throat." He reached to brush aside a strand of hair away from her face. "Pumpkin, Ford and I forbid you to do certain things because we want to keep you and your brother safe. We don't do it to be jerks. That's why I didn't want you to go to the part—Long is a shady, slimy character, and I can pick those creeps out a mile away. I knew he'd try somethin', and I didn't want ya to get hurt."

"I wish I listened to you," muttered Mabel. "I let myself fall for his dumb charm. Guess I'm pretty naïve and gullible."

"Ya have a strong heart," corrected Stan. "Nothin' wrong with that. But sometimes—"

"People aren't what they seem, and others are exactly what they seem, and don't deserve another chance," finished Mabel. "Trust me, lesson learned. I'll try to be a little more careful."

"A hard lesson that coulda been avoided if ya just listened," drawled Stan, ruffling her hair slightly. "Kiddo, ya know what has to happen, right?"

Mabel winced. "Yes…I deserve it, even if I'd rather not go through it."

"Clean yourself up." Stan wrinkled his nose. "Ya smell like weed."

Mabel flushed. "Yeah, you were right about that too. I didn't have any."

"Didn't think ya did," responded Stan. "As crazy as you acted tonight, I know you. I didn't have any worries there."

Warmth filled her at that. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan."

"Get in the shower, kiddo. I'll see you in my room when you're done."

Mabel scampered out of the living room and up the stairs. She entered the attic, where she found Dipper reading a novel, the bedside lamp turned on. He immediately sat up at the sight of her. "What—?"

"I'll explain everything later," interjected Mabel, snagging her pajamas from the top of her sheets. "I have to shower and go see Grunkle Stan."

"Good luck," he said sympathetically. "I'll be waiting."

"Thanks, Dipping Dots."

Thought she wanted to linger under the shower's warm spray for as long as she could, she knew it was better to get everything over with. After giving her long hair a good scrub, she turned off the water and got dressed into her light pink pajama pants and shirt. She tied her hair up into a messy ponytail and began the trek to Stan's room, heart pounding in her chest.

Stan was sitting on the edge of his bed, reading an old issue of his favourite magazine. When she entered he set it aside. "You know why we're here, right kiddo?"

"I didn't listen to you," she said softly. "I lied to you and snuck out past curfew."

When he motioned her forwards, she crossed the room and stopped beside him. Her stomach dropped in dread when he guided her over his knees, but it was not something she didn't expect. She stared at the hardwood floor, muscles clenching nervously.

"We already had our spiel, so I won't go over it again," spoke Stan. "But if you ever disobey me and do something like this again, I'll make sure the next punishment drills this lesson into you."

"Yes sir," she said quickly.

The first strike nearly caused her to jolt, but she managed to keep still. Her skin was still tender from her shower, enhancing the sting. The smacks came in quick succession, igniting the burn more fiercely with little time for the sting to cool. Unable to keep still now, Mabel jerked as the uncomfortable sensation grew with each strike, tears building in her eyes. "Ouch, ow!"

"Don't move," ordered Stan, laying his other hand firmly against her back. "It'll drag on longer if you don't stay still."

Mabel flinched at the particularly hard blow she received in warning, and settled as best she could. "Ow, ow, ow, ow," she whimpered, her tears trickling down her cheeks as the stinging increased. "Grunkle Stan, I'm really sorry! Ouch! _Really really_ sorry!"

Relief crashed down on her when Stan finally pulled her upright. Her bottom felt like it was on fire, the fabric scratching the red, irritated flesh. She sat up and was immediately wrapped into a tight embrace, which she happily leaned into.

"I am sorry," she murmured, wiping at her tears.

"I know you are, pumpkin." Stan kissed her hair affectionately. "You know I hate doing this."

"I don't like it either," said Mabel feelingly. "Maybe we should just stop doing this altogether."

Stan snorted. "And let you and your brother run wild? I don't think so. You gotta be kept in line."

"Fair enough." A tired yawn escaped her. "I think I'm ready for bed."

"You're gonna need all the sleep ya can get, kiddo. Ford's gonna talk our ears off about his nerd convention and I doubt he'll be amused if any of us fall asleep through it."

"Goodnight, Grunkle Stan." Mabel pecked his cheek lovingly. "I love you."

"I love you too, pumpkin." Stan tweaked her nose fondly. "But you and your brother need to stop scaring the heck outta me. The old ticker can't take it."

"I'll try my best Grunkle Stan," said Mabel. "But I can't promise anything here."

"I didn't expect ya too," said Stan in slight amusement. "Get some sleep."

Mabel hopped off his lap and started for the door. Before she left, Stan then asked casually, "Did Dipper give ya a heads-up?"

Shifting her eyes back and forth, she said evasively, "I plead the Fifth."

"Figures," said Stan with a slight roll of his eyes. "Night, gremlin."

"Night, old man," she returned playfully.

She headed into the hall and up the stairs. She entered the attic and promptly went to collapse in her bed, snuggling beside a slumbering Waddles. Dipper stared at her in sympathy and amusement. "Spill. What happened?"

Mabel recounted the events of the night, and Dipper's eyes narrowed when she mentioned why Spencer had invited her to the party. "That jerk. I'll sic the gnomes on him."

"Ooh, that's actually a good idea."

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if you'd have listened to Grunkle Stan."

Mabel craned her head to shoot her brother a look. "Water sprites."

"Right." Grinning, Dipper hopped off his bed and reached underneath, removing an ice pack he had smuggled in a few minutes ago from the kitchen. He went over and handed it to his sister. "Here. This should ease the sting so you don't feel it so much in the morning."

"Thanks, bro-bro," said Mabel gratefully.

Dipper sat on the edge of her bed, stretching his arms above his head. "We'd probably make it a lot easier on ourselves if we learned to listen."

"Probably. But I don't think that's gonna happen." Mabel laughed. "Besides, we have to keep Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford on their toes."

"Good point." Dipper smirked. "We have to keep them young."

" _I hear talkin'! If you runts aren't asleep by the time Ford gets home..."_

Dipper launched into his own bed while Mabel yanked the covers over her body. Dipper turned out the light and before he buried his head into his pillow he remarked,

"And they keep us in line—at the expense of our butts."


End file.
